


arrive early (or, Daylight, I.)

by ginexvra



Series: the art of war (and love) [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (home is a recurring theme in my work), F/M, First Impressions, Hope that's cool, and other questions answered, i use my own byleth's name, i'm a sucker for house leader dynamics too, that night in remire village, what happens on the walk back from the inn to the monastery, why byleth is inclined to pick claude's house, why claude finds byleth interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:55:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginexvra/pseuds/ginexvra
Summary: Was it love at first sight? Probably not, because "first sight" was on the battlefield in the dark of night.But in the daylight, there's nothing else Claude can see or think of.____(Or, what happens on the walk back to the monastery that gets her and Claude so interested in each other.)





	arrive early (or, Daylight, I.)

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered what leads Claude to say, "Piqued your interest, have I? As luck would have it, I'm pretty curious about you as well."
> 
> This is my attempt to answer that question. <3

Claude Von Riegan is loathe to admit that he left breakfast at the inn early, hoping to catch the mercenary from last night in the yard before Edelgard or Dimitri got to her.

He could use someone like her on his team - someone who was proficient with weapons, yes, but also someone with a mind that could keep up with his own penchant for tactics. She looked young enough to join his class at the Officers Academy; if he can convince her to stay, she might be a good influence on the future leaders and generals of the Leicester Alliance.

It was a strategic move, one that the other two house leaders could see as well. They had the advantage here, though, so Claude had to sneak himself into position early if he hoped to beat them to it.

His mind has been buzzing all night, replaying the battle, the steps they took, the way the mercenary had spun like a whirling dervish at the bandit leader who attacked Edelgard and knocked the axe clear out of his hands. He’d never seen anything half so fearless - or skilled - or graceful - from anyone their age.

Claude is even more loathe to admit that, maybe, under the cover of night, he’d been staring at her a little more than necessary. He’s pretty sure he’d liked what he’d seen.

He takes his coffee inside the knights’ caravan, black and bitter like he likes it. He’s not as partial to coffee as he is to his favourite pine needle tea, but after the excitement of last night, he hasn’t had much sleep. Idly, Claude wonders what would have happened if she hadn't stepped in between Edelgard and that blade. Civil war, probably. 

The subject of his thoughts comes out of the dining hall carrying two packs - one large pack and the other even bigger, which Claude assumes must be her father's. She stops by the water pump in the courtyard to wash her face and neck, and run wet fingers through her teal hair.

Gloriana raises her face to the sun and breathes in, hands still tangled in her hair. In the morning sun, he sees her more clearly: wide indigo eyes, high cheekbones, wiry muscles. Lace tights, long black coat, a bodice that left little to the imagination. Features he might have once described - if he hadn’t met Edelgard - as too fine for someone who wielded a giant blade. 

Claude realises he didn’t really _ see _what he was looking at last night.

Time seems to slow, and in this private moment, bathed in the sun, eyes soft, he suddenly doesn't want to look at anything else, or think of anything else.

There is just her, and the daylight.

And then she crouches down, shoulders a giant pack on each side and starts moving again, and the dreamlike spell is broken.

Her small frame looks awkward between the bulk of the packs, but she balances them with ease. Between her size and those ridiculous tights, you never would have guessed she was an absolute beast with a sword. She heaves the packs onto their caravan, then without having to be told, sets to work loading nearby supplies onto the caravan bed.

Claude pretends the hammering in his pulse is because he drank his coffee too strong too fast. He drains his cup and hurries over to help.

\- - - - - - -

"Hey," he greets. He grabs a canvas sack of supplies in each hand and starts loading them into the caravan with her. "Thanks again for saving our asses from those bandits last night."

"It wasn't any trouble," Gloriana replies, without stopping at her work. Her tone is even and matter-of-fact, and Claude can't tell how she really feels about it.

"I’m sorry running into us is keeping you from your next job, though," he plows on. "But honestly, I never in a million years would have expected the man we asked assistance from would be a former Captain of the Knights of Seiros.”

She waves the apology away with a shake of her head. "My father would have stopped to help anyone."

"I can’t say I’m sorry you'll be joining us on the way to the monastery though. You'd be much better company than the two I came here with."

The glance she gives him makes him feel like she's trying to decide whether or not he's an asshole, so Claude winks to reassure her he’s joking. “Edelgard and Dima are good kids, don’t get me wrong. They just take themselves too seriously. But I suppose they have to, with all the responsibility that’s waiting for them.”

She nods her understanding. And then - “And you don’t?”

“Hey, just because I’m not serious doesn’t mean I don’t take my responsibilities seriously!” Claude stretches his arms over his head and laughs. She’s a sharp one, if she can ask him such a thing so directly. “So where are you from?”

Gloriana shrugs. “Nowhere. We're mercenaries, we go where the job takes us.”

“Yeah, but surely there's somewhere you go back to? For the harvest or family birthdays or the holidays?”

She gestures to their caravan, the other mercenaries readying their horses in the yard. “This is it.”

Claude can't imagine what it must be like not having a home. It’s true that he doesn't always know where he belongs, but at least he’s certain he has a place to return to and his own bed to sleep in.

So many people live that way across Fodlan and beyond, and not because they’re traveling mercenaries like Jeralt’s troops. He pokes that soft part of his heart for a second, just enough for the ache to remind him of how heavy his _ responsibilities _as a future sovereign really were. Then again, that's part of why he's got his dreams for the Alliance.

“Don’t pity me,” Gloriana breaks into his thoughts. With two people hauling, the job is done quicker than expected. She leans comfortably into the rear of the caravan. “It's not been a bad life.”

"You must call all of Fodlan your home then." Claude dusts his hands off his pants and takes the spot next to her. “Have you ever been to the Alliance?”

Gloriana nods. “We've taken jobs there. Bandits and wild beasts and such.”

“Was there anywhere in particular you liked?”

She considers this for a moment, brow furrowing slightly. There was something fascinating in how restrained her emotions were. Claude swears he can feel them stirring under the surface, like the shadow of a large fish deep in an undisturbed lake, but she controlled them so precisely you would think she was simply apathetic if you weren't reading closely enough.

"A mountain town at the very border," she finally answers. "Almost to Almyra. I liked the smell of the pine trees.”

Claude brightens up. "Have you had any pine needle tea?"

She shakes her head.

"Look me up next time you're in Leicester territory," he says, as if he’s not the future Sovereign Duke and could be summoned by a random pretty mercenary at a moment’s notice. "I’ll brew you a pot. Maybe I could even show you around the Alliance sometime, when you're not on a job."

“Sure,” Gloriana says noncommittally. She stands abruptly and gives him a small bow. “I have to go brief with my father before we leave. Thank you for your help.”

It isn’t until after she’s gone that Claude realises that, after the frenzy of Edelgard and Dima’s proposals last night, it may have been exactly the wrong thing to say. Damn.

\- - - - - - -

The trip back to the monastery would have been only a matter of hours on horseback, but as they walked with their escort of knights and Jeralt's whole troop of mercenaries, it takes the whole morning.

Claude doesn't mind in the least, taking it as an opportunity to make good on his promise to get to know Gloriana before begging her for favors.

(Besides, if he was being honest, this unreadable, eccentrically-dressed, unfairly beautiful killing machine was starting to hold interest for himself, not just for the Alliance.)

It’s obvious pretty quickly that Gloriana is a woman of few words, as skilled at deflecting questions about herself as she was at parrying a blade. Despite this, she's an attentive listener, returning appropriate if subdued responses to the conversation, and inviting you to elaborate on whatever you're talking about.

Dima and Edelgard hardly seem to notice that she has shared very little about herself, instead eagerly taking the chance to talk about their territories and why working with the Kingdom or the Empire would benefit her. Predictably, it isn’t long before the discussion eventually devolves into them bickering.

"Aaaand off they go." Claude tips his chin towards the other two, who carry on arguing without a care for the fact that their guest of honor has lagged behind. He’s careful not to say anything too competitive, remembering his misstep earlier that day. "Isn't this just the most entertaining geography lesson you've ever had?"

The corner of Gloriana's lips lifts ever so slightly, the closest she's gotten to a smile so far. "Yes, quite." Claude has only a moment to take it in because a second later it's gone, her face blank and impassive once more.

He decides he wants to see it happen again.

“This is going to be your first time at the monastery,” Dima says, returning to the conversation. He slows his steps to keep pace with Claude and Gloriana. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

“It really is Fodlan in a nutshell,” Claude remarks. “You’d know what that’s like, I guess, after what we talked about earlier.”

Gloriana gives him a nod of acknowledgment. From this angle she can’t see Edelgard mouth at Claude suspiciously - _ Earlier? _ \- or Dima’s look of surprise as she confirms that yes, they did indeed have a conversation that did _ not _include the Imperial princess or the Crown prince. 

Claude keeps his own face cheerfully inscrutable - a challenge, given how smug he feels right now.

They keep marching, the two of them in the center with Edelgard and Dima on either side, the filtered sunlight casting a golden glow on Gloriana’s face.

Claude hopes that she can’t see him staring at her in the light of day either.

\- - - - - - -

It’s well past midday by the time they arrive at the monastery. Alois sets off at once to make his report, and Jeralt and his troops follow the knights’ instructions as to where they can stable their horses and drop their belongings.

Gloriana parts with the students in the front courtyard.

"Thank you again for saving my life,” Edelgard says, granting Gloriana one of her rare bows before she goes. Claude’s eyebrows raise; it was so infrequent that the Imperial princess deferred to anybody. “I trust we can deepen our relationship further during your stay here at Garreg Mach.”

“I hope to see you around as well,” Dimitri interjects smoothly as Edelgard leaves. “The offer of a tour around the monastery still stands; it would be a shame if you left without seeing everything we had to offer.” _ We. _ The wealth of the Holy Kingdom, best demonstrated through its close financial ties to the Church. Claude puts a fist over his mouth and coughs to disguise a snort.

He too, bows to Gloriana, as deeply as one would to a noble lady, and departs.

And then it’s just the two of them again. Claude knows he’s got one final shot to make, and he had better make it count if he wants to have any hope of this enigma of a girl choosing his side over the power of the Empire and the affluence of the Kingdom. Gloriana didn’t look at all fazed by being in the company of royalty, but Edelgard wasn’t afraid to play dirty, and Dima could be very convincing.

All he had going for him was his charm - and while usually a wink and a compliment were enough to get him what he wanted, it doesn’t feel right this time. This time, he wants to offer her something _ real _. So that if she chooses the Alliance, she would be choosing something she could be loyal to, something greater than the fickle promise of clout or money.

Besides, Claude knows he’s just as bad as Edelgard and Dima at using people, but one could argue his burgeoning personal motivation is worse. But that, at least, could remain a card hidden up his sleeve for now. He draws a breath, and takes his shot.

"So I've been thinking about what you said about not having anyone or anywhere to come back to...and not to pressure you or anything, but I sincerely think you'd find a place with the Alliance folks. They’re good people. Warm, friendly, look out for their friends. I think if you ever got around to looking for a home, there would be a good place to start.” 

He looks straight into her eyes to prove that he means it. “I'd be honored to introduce you to the Alliance students here, and not as a mercenary. Just as a friend."

This time, she nods with more intent, and Claude knows he’s said the right thing. "Thank you - Your Grace," Gloriana murmurs, grasping for her manners.

"Claude," he corrects immediately, offering his hand. She takes it, and for a moment they are joined in that one warm spot. The touch is at once electric and familiar, as though the very calluses on their fingers already understand one another. 

They shake at the same time, firmly, and when she lifts her head to look at him, the tiny smile is on her face again.

He doesn't let go.

She doesn't either.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading to the end of my first FE3H fic! <3 I hope you enjoyed it, because I have a headcanon list to flesh out that's 2000+ words long. *happy wince*
> 
> Some notes on references used: 
> 
> "arrive early" - from The Art of War by Sun Tzu (a.k.a. my Fire Emblem Bible): "Those who arrive early at the place of conflict will be in a position to take initiative. Those who arrive late must hasten into action troubled."
> 
> Daylight - from Taylor Swift's Lover (which is totally my Claude/Byleth post-war end credits song)
> 
> Gloriana - one of Elizabeth I's nicknames, chosen because this House is chock-full of English references anyway (Leicester, Goneril/Regan/Cordelia)!


End file.
